


Believe

by orphan_account



Category: E.R.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fairy," Ella whispered.</p><p>By the soft amber light of the street lamps that filtered into the room through her bedroom curtains, she could see the narrow refraction of light through the apparition's glasses. He smiled at her, his eyes huge and lifeless: sombre pools of darkness. </p><p>"Ella," he said, "I want you to do something for me. Something very important. I want you to tell Mommy that the fairy misses her very much."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believe

**_  "Don't you know that everybody's got a fairyland of their own?" - P.L. Travers, Mary Poppins  _ **

* * *

Elizabeth’s warm, clammy palms pressed hard against Ella's pillow as the battered edge of her wedding ring dented the white cotton.

“Goodnight, honey, sleep well,” she whispered, moving away and closing the bedroom door behind her. She wore a red turtle-neck jumper and a pair of battered jeans. Her hair was parted in the middle and brushed over her forehead, the length of her curls uneven and unpredictable. The corners of her eyes had begun to crease with wear around the edges and had lost the faint glow they once held within them at the hands of sleeplessness and despair. When she stopped, she run her fingers over the photo frame on top of the wooden table placed in the middle of the hallway, directly opposite to her Ella’s room. There they were. The three of them, smiling smiles they thought would never leave them. Ella's skin was dotted with freckles and her hair had turned even blonder through exposure to the sun. She sat on Mark's knee as he bobbed her up and down, her feet brushing over the yellow sand below them.

The photograph made Elizabeth's body jilt with sorrow and angst. The moment was so delicately captured in time, never to leave the concealment of the frame above it. She knew that their smiles would never fade, that Ella's laughter would never die and she'd never grow out of her childhood innocence, and that Mark's genuity would never leave. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to smash the photograph right out of the glass and hold it close to her lips, cherishing the memories. But that would only bring pain and an unwelcome nostalgia, and those were emotions she could afford to feel with a three-year-old in her arms day and night.

It was rare that Ella ever slept through the night. Tonight was no exception, and sure enough the heavy weight at her feet returned in the early hours of the morning. Her bed sheets shallowed, the faint hum of nearby breathing all that was necessary to disturb her slumber.

She opened her eyes to the greyed room, allowing the flat of her palms to reach for her mattress and prop her body upright. There he was. He sat in the same place he did every night, surrounded by her stuffed toys and dolls. His eyes met hers, but he did not have to silence an oncoming scream. She remained silent, slowly reaching out for him in the way she always did.

"Hello Ella." The vector of his body glowed. His hands were shaking against his knees as she came closer.

By the soft amber light of the street lamps that filtered into the room through her bedroom curtains, Ella could see the narrow refraction of light through the apparition's glasses. He smiled at her, his eyes huge and lifeless: sombre pools of darkness.

"Fairy," she whispered. She stretched out her hand and reached for his shoulder. Her lips curved to form a tender smile as she pressed her pyjama-clad body onto his knees and huddled towards him. "You're cold," she said.

Mark sat in silence, brushing his daughter's hair through with his fingers. It was just like Elizabeth's: blonde, curled and gravity-defying. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." His voice trembled at each syllable. He spoke softly, his eyes gazing straight ahead.

"That's okay."

Mark's lips parted as he laughed. His allowed the sound of her steady breaths of sooth the pain he felt each time he visited her. "Promise me you're being a good girl, Ella?" he asked.

The little girl nodded her head, her curls falling against her neck. "I promise."

Mark sighed. "Ella," he begun, holding her head to his chest, "I want you to do something for me. Something very important. Something very special to me."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Okay," she replied. Her voice cracked as if to symbolise a small breakage in her sincerity.

"I need you to tell Mommy something for me. I want you to let her know..." His voice trailed off. His bit his lip and focused his gaze. He allowed himself to look into his daughter's crystal blue eyes for a moment, taking in a heavy breath of clean air before he continued. "I want you to tell Mommy that the fairy misses her very much. I want you to tell her that the fairy is very sorry and that he's always here. That he always sees her and he'll never forget her." His eyes fell to the ground.

Ella looked up at him. Her lips were pouted and her tongue stuck out. "Mommy doesn't believe in fairies," she giggled.

Mark smiled. "Maybe Mommy doesn't believe because she needs somebody to show her. Maybe she needs somebody to make her believe." He bobbed her up and down on his knee and put his arms around her shoulders. "Will you try to make Mommy believe in fairies, Ella?"

The little girl nodded. She crawled off of his knee and grabbed one of her stuffed toys, clasping it with both arms.

"I have to go now," Mark whispered, running his fingers through her hair one more time. "Promise me you'll look after Mommy now, won't you?"

Ella raised her palm up in the air and waved to him whilst bowing her head. "Bye bye, fairy." She chortled.

"Goodbye Ella. Sleep tight."

He faded to thin air, leaving behind nothing but a depthless aperture over her duvet where he once sat.


End file.
